by Pet Jeffery
Bun-break was over. In spite of the name given to this mid-morning snack, we had not been supplied with buns. Rather, it had comprised two bourbon biscuits for each of us, and one of those stubby third of a pint school milk bottles. I was surprised that a dairy had delivered the milk to a school in such a remote locality, especially as St Elphin's currently housed less than a dozen pupils. Possibly, there was a town closer than I realised. Otherwise, maybe the milk was delivered from a dairy farm that nestled in a dip in the otherwise bleak moorland. Although there were another seven girls somewhere in the school, just three of us had partaken of this repast: the teenage Austen House Captain, twelve-year-old Jane Kemp, and me. We had eaten and drunk in the house refectory: a great barn of a place with eight long tables, each of which could have accommodated a dozen people. During term-time, I imagined, the refectory was full; but this was a pre-autumn-term orientation day for new arrivals. Our voices echoed eerily in the cavernous space - devoid, as it was, of the throng for which it was clearly designed.
As the house captain clattered her empty milk bottle into a crate, she asked Jane and me, "Would you like to see the classroom where you'll study this year?"
"Yes, please, Miss," Jane answered eagerly.
"Yes, please, Miss," I echoed with less eagerness, although I would be glad to leave the almost empty dining hall.
"You could try to sound a bit more enthusiastic, Leah," the house captain chided me. "I'd expect better of a girl Miss Jones honoured with a second stroke of her cane."
"I'm sorry, Miss," I apologised. "I'm maybe a bit tired."
"I hope you'll have the energy for lacrosse when school starts on Tuesday morning. You can't be a two-stroke girl and a slacker. That would be simply frightful."
Jane excused me saying, "I expect, Miss, that Leah didn't sleep very well last night: the excitement of starting at such a good school. That is, I mean, Miss, at the best school - and in the best house, too. Yea, Austen!"
"Yea Austen, indeed. And I dare say that you're right, Jane."
After my last pre-St Elphin's evening, I would have passed a much more troubled night, had I envisaged how this day would develop. I'd been expecting to attend St Elphin's School for orientation - but as a teacher, not as a schoolgirl. I was twenty-three years old but, unfortunately, I'd always looked much younger than my actual age. At the insistence of the Austen House matron, I had changed into school uniform. Perhaps insistence is too weak a word; matron had placed me over her knee for a spanking, and she had then stood me in the corner under the threat of more severe corporal punishment. As far as the school was concerned, I was currently a second form pupil. That meant my uniform included a childish pinafore dress, rather than the pleated skirt worn by the older girls. One such girl was the teenage house captain, who acted as Jane's and my guide.
Our shepherdess led Jane and me from Austen House. In the driveway, I saw an elderly and rather disreputable-looking car chugging its way toward the school gates. Our destination was much nearer to hand; we continued around the corner and into School House, known to the St Elphin's girls as 'Scolly'. The house captain ascended two flights of concrete stairs with a carefree gait. Jane skipped up the stairway; I followed, a little more heavy-footed. Our footfalls echoed loudly in the almost empty building. It was Saturday, and the term was not to begin for almost another three days. At the top of the second flight, our guide led us along a corridor, before opening a badly scuffed blue door upon which 2B was painted in white. Beyond the door, I glimpsed school desks with cast iron frames that probably dated back to Victorian times. A large map of England was pinned to the wall; it marked an extensive railway network much of which had been closed by Dr Beeching about five years before. I could see little more than that, as the house captain paused in the doorway.
"I'm sorry, Miss, to barge in," our escort said. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be here. Term doesn't start..."
"Until Tuesday, I know," a slightly familiar voice replied. "It's perfectly all right. If I've remembered the house colours correctly, the badge on your lapel places you as the Captain of Austen House."
"That's right, Miss." The teenager sounded pleased to have her position recognised. "I'm just showing a couple of new girls where the 2B form room is."
"And I'm Miss Sutton..." The name was slightly familiar. "...2B's new form mistress. This is my first day, and I'd be delighted to meet a couple of my girls. Show them in, please."
"Of course, Miss."
The teenager stood to one side, to usher Jane and I into the room. Jane stepped ahead of me and introduced herself.
"I'm Jane Kemp, Miss."
Jane bobbed; it was almost, but not quite, a curtsey. Although the oldest person present, I was also the shortest; it was not until Jane made her respectful gesture that I was able to see the teacher. She wore a Royal Stuart tartan miniskirt teamed with black tights and a white blouse of fine fabric, through which her bra straps were clearly visible. Her hair was blonde. After a moment, I recognised her. She was Margaret Sutton. When I'd attended St Elphin's for my teaching post interview, Margaret had been the only other candidate. While we'd waited for the school governors to see us, she had engaged me in friendly chatter. It didn't occur to me, at first, that - if she'd been offered the position - I couldn't be the new teacher. St Elphin's wouldn't have appointed both of us. Rather, I saw her as the only person currently in the school buildings who would be able to identify me as a member of staff, rather than a pupil.
I greeted her, without thought. "Margaret!"
The welcoming smile drained from Miss Sutton's face; she glared at me with a ferocity of which I wouldn't have believed her capable.
"What's your name, girl?" she asked.
"Leah Tompson, Miss," I replied.
She had clearly failed to recognise me. I appeared to be a second form schoolgirl, and Miss Sutton would presumably treat me as such. Any attempted explanation would serve only to darken my character as a miscreant.
"When I accepted this post, Tompson," she said, "I was aware that I would need to administer corporal punishment on occasion. I didn't, however, envisage that it would be necessary to whack a pupil on my first day as a teacher at St Elphin's. That is doubly the case as the term has not yet begun, and there are, I believe, only ten girls in the school, as yet."
"I'm sorry, Miss," I apologised.
"Whether or not that's true, Tompson, it's my duty to ensure that you will be sorry. As this is my first day in my first teaching post; I have no previous experience of spanking girls. You'll have to forgive me if your chastisement doesn't hurt as much as it should."
I caught sarcasm in the final sentence. My reading of her words and her tone, taken together, was that she was confident that my whacking would hurt a great deal. As I read the determination in her eyes, and in the set of her jaw, I shared that confidence. I didn't know, as yet, with what she would hit me, but I knew with complete certainty that she would wallop me repeatedly and make every whack count. To add humiliation to the inevitable pain, I was quite sure that she was at least a year younger than me.
I repeated my apology, without hope that it might help. "I'm sorry, Miss. You see, this is my first day at St Elphin's, Miss, and..."
"While I will neither confirm nor deny my Christian name to you, Tompson, I wonder about your last school. Did you address the mistresses in such an informal manner?"
"No, Miss. Of course not, Miss."
"So, your insolence wasn't occasioned by ignorance of the rules that govern a decent school."
"Please, Miss," the teenage house captain intervened, "she's been calling me Miss all morning, Miss."
"Quite right, too, of course. So, Tompson, do you think that your form mistress is worthy of less respect than your house captain?"
"No, Miss. Of course not, Miss."
"I can only conclude, Tompson, that you were deliberately insolent. Do you wish to deny that?"
"No, Miss." There was obviously no point in reminding her that we'd met while we waited for the interview panel to receive us. Either she recognised me, or she didn't - and the latter was obviously the case. Attempts to evade punishment could only serve to aggravate the situation. "I don't, Miss."
"And, in your last school, how would a mistress have dealt with a girl who addressed a staff member by her Christian name?"
"Detention, Miss."
This was true. Five years before, I'd graduated from a grammar school. The headmistress certainly caned girls whom her staff caught in act of smoking, but mere cheekiness was answered with detention.
"If that's true, Tompson, your mistresses were obviously slack, almost to the point of criminality."
"Please, Miss." Jane had raised her hand for attention.
"Yes, Jane? Do you have anything to add to this sorry discussion?"
"Leah went to some frightful grammar school, Miss, so maybe she's not to be blamed. And Miss Jones must think that Leah has potential; she welcomed her with two strokes of the cane, Miss."
"Really? Well, Tompson, I understand that's the mark of a future head girl or games captain. A mere hand spanking certainly won't suffice for the likes of you. And, when she steps out of line, I believe a two-stroke girl merits more and harder whacks than an ordinary pupil. Do you have any argument with that?"
"No, I don't, Miss." There was clearly no point in argument; it could only result in even more and yet harder whacks.
"Good. I'm glad that you're offering me no more nonsense. The chief question, now, is the instrument of your whacking. Perhaps I should ask to borrow one of Miss Jones' canes."
"I think, Miss," the house captain said, "that I saw Miss Jones' car heading down the drive about five minutes ago. She might have gone into the village to fetch us cakes for our tea."
"Yes, I think I remember her saying something about cakes. So, Tompson, would you rather wait for your whacking, or have one straight away?"
"Straight away, please, Miss," I answered - partly because I felt that Miss Sutton's alternative chastising implement must hurt less than the cane, and partly because I preferred to have my punishment over and done with, if I was to be whacked at all.
"Spoken like a true St Elphin's girl. Now what do I have? Ah!" She picked up a plastic ruler from her desk; it was about eighteen inches long and obviously highly flexible. "I was just using this to rule lines for a chart to go on the wall: so that I can award different coloured stars to my pupils. It might do very well for a bad girl's bottom. What do you think, Leah?" I noticed that she'd reverted to my first name, which probably signified that she was less angry.
"Yes, Miss," I replied. "I think that would do very well."
I suspected that the supple length of plastic might hurt even more than one of Miss Jones' canes - but, at least, I wouldn't be kept waiting much longer for my whacking. Already, throbs of anticipation troubled my bottom.
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